


and i saw the peaks on my own (that you probably meant for us)

by mror



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, a follow up to my previous fic, catras pov, second person again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 10:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20241601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mror/pseuds/mror
Summary: it's almost all you've ever wanted, yet somehow it doesn't quite feel like a victory.





	and i saw the peaks on my own (that you probably meant for us)

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of a follow-up to my previous fic. title is from the song alps by novo amor and ed tullett.

you've done it.

you watched the horde's army grow and grow and march on etheria. you watched adora slip from your fingers and fall and fall and fall. you watched the rebellion crumble and hordak has rewarded you well for your role in it. 

and now you stare out at the fright zone from the rooftop. the city will be expanding in the coming weeks. you've secured a good amount of power for yourself. it's almost all you've ever wanted, yet somehow it doesn't quite feel like a victory. 

adora was always supposed to be there with you. queens of the horde, or whatever. you wouldn't be here if you hadn't done what you did. but you're starting to think that you'd rather be back at the bottom with a fucking squad of princesses after your head than alone where you are now.

most of your anger died with adora. maybe she left you for good, but you were the one who made that decision. the root of everything. she's gone, yes, but only because of you. and you're so tired. just so, _so_ tired.

being a leader was nothing like you used to imagine. yeah, now you'd do just about anything to go back in time and kick yourself. go with adora the night she found the sword. or follow her when she asked. something. anything. anything different from where you are. 

scorpia and entrapta are gone, too. they disappeared once the portal was opened. they could be miles into the crimson waste, living off the land with the other runaways. or they could have died in the first wave of horde soldiers. you really, really do not want to care. you do. but it doesn't hurt the way you keep thinking it will. much less animosity. just sadness. they left. they're probably dead, too, and it is your fault. if they're gone you have no one else to blame. they made their decision but it was prompted by you. you and that damn portal. you look up.

the sky in the fright zone is disgusting. now that rage has left your vision you can see that. it's dark, it's red, the smoke is perpetual. at bright moon it was always clear. fuck. that will all be wiped away in time. 

you wrap your hand around a metal pole. it sticks out of the roof beside you, jutting up into the air at strange angles. it's so ugly here. how could you never have noticed? how could you never have cared? your grip tightens. your hand, wrapped around adora's wrist. hers wrapped around yours. you letting go. back to now. you knuckles turn white. your palm aches. you don't let go. you don't cry, either, even as your bottom lip twitches. 

there aren't any guardrails on the roof.

you think about that for a moment. it's enough to distract you from your grip on the pole, which is not adora's wrist, but you can't let it go this time. 

it's a fall of maybe a hundred feet. maybe more. you were never that good at gauging distance. but how poetic would it be, you think, to fall and have no one there to catch your arm? to fall into nothing, nothing, nothing, the same fate you damned adora to? there must be some sort of irony in that. some sort of sickening parallel. 

you sit, hand still clenched, draw your knees into your chest and hold them with your free arm. adora left. scorpia left. entrapta left. and you're finally ready to admit to yourself the part you played in their leaving. it feels something like growth in the worst way possible. you've realized far too late. they're gone. all of them. every single princess. every single rebellion leader. and there's no running to adora to ask her how to fix things. she's not here to dry your tears this time, so you wipe at your face yourself, keeping your other hand wrapped around the pole.

you'll die before you let go of that goddamn pole, you think. out of everything you've let go of, this is the one thing you can't. 

it's late. dinner has been served and cleaned up in the mess hall. the soldiers you control are settling down in their quarters. if the sun shined in the fright zone, it would be setting. instead the sky just gradually gets darker and darker.

you kick your legs out in front of you. from where you sit, hand around the pole, your heels just barely reach the edge of the roof. a hundred feet, at least. at least. let go. 

let go.

one last time, you let go.

let go.

your entire arm hurts now. you let go. flex your fingers. move a little closer to the edge and peek over.

nothing but ground below. a hundred feet.

at least.

if you're going to die tonight, you think, you're going to die the same way she did.

you stand up again and turn your back to the edge. look straight in the other direction. the sky is much, much darker over there. what little semblance of light that slips between the permanent clouds has disappeared entirely. 

this time, there is no one there to take your arm.

you just hold yours at your sides and fall backwards.

into nothing.

and you don't let yourself scream.

this time, you don't regret anything. 


End file.
